Four Leaf Clover
by MissFee
Summary: Someone special to Tony winds up in a whole lot of trouble. Tony/OC. Summary sucks but the story is good!
1. Chapter 1

**Apologies again for those of you waiting patiently for more of "The Witching Hour". I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just can't get the damn thing off the ground. I haven't received any hate mail yet, not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing... Anyways! Here's something else that I've been playing with. No time frame as such, just sort of – there. Reviews are always appreciated. Warnings for some rough language, but what can I say? I'm Australian, I was born with my foot in my mouth. **

**Chapter One.**

Anthony DiNozzo walked into the pub and surveyed the dank room around him. The smell of cigarettes and stale beer assaulted his senses, as his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting. He weaved his way through the pool tables, nodding at the familiar faces, before taking a seat at the bar. He'd been coming here for months now, and loved it. It was slightly seedy and dingy, with a predominantly blue-collar crowd, but he was accepted. He was part of the furniture, part of the gang. Most of the clientele had him pegged for a cop, but they didn't care – he was just Tony, a good guy who'd always have your back in case of trouble. The bartender gave him a questioning look; Tony merely nodded – it was nice going somewhere where they knew your drink. In under a minute, a cold beer and a shot of Irish whiskey were placed in front of him, a bowl of pretzels materialising right behind them. Tony threw back the Irish without flinching, and took a long sip of beer. It had been a long _long_ couple of weeks for him. Case after case without so much as a breather in between, Gibbs riding his ass like nobody's business, Vance up in arms because of his admittedly unorthodox interrogation techniques, McGee pissed at him because he'd superglued his mouse to his desk _again_... Still, they'd done their job and they'd done it well. So well, in fact, that Vance was actually being nice and giving them a four day weekend. Four whole days, he thought, what's a guy to do? Four days of freedom, off rotation and off-the-grid – he would've been ecstatic if he hadn't been so damn exhausted. Suddenly, he sensed, before he heard someone behind him.

"Why so glum babycakes? Want some sugar to make it all better?" a low female voice purred.

He spun around on his seat ready to shoot off a smart-ass remark, managing to bite his tongue just in time as he recognised the girl. "Louisa! What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?" he laughed, drawing the girl into a hug.

"Couldn't help myself Tony, saw you sittin' there away with the pixies – it was like taking candy from a baby." The waitress drew herself up to her not-so-considerable height of 5'4" and glared at him. "And _don't _call me Louisa, only Papa calls me that," she scolded.

Tony laughed once more and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Sorry Lulu, my bad. Been a long one. You on a break?"

"Saw you come in. It's a quiet night; figured I'd take ten to come say hi. Where've you been Tony? I've missed you." The girlish features came into play; she couldn't help flirting with the older man.

"Workin' hard sweetie. The bad guys don't catch themselves," he quipped, still smiling. He'd had a soft spot for 'his' girl ever since he started coming here; she was young and pretty and had dreams of fame and fortune – like every girl her age. Instead, her reality was a father who required round-the-clock medical care, and an older brother in the Marines. Tony had come to her rescue one night when a few drunken fools were making a nuisance of themselves, and since then Lulu had taken a shine to him.

"Well you gotta take some downtime once in a while! All work and no play makes Tony a dull boy," she pouted, her green eyes sparkling with humour.

"What would you know about dull boys, huh? I bet you got a dozen boys beatin' a path to your door just dying to take you out!" he teased, reaching out to tweak a stray lock of raven-black hair.

"Oh yeah right, 'cos they all wanna go out with a girl who still lives with her Daddy!"

"Well you just make sure they treat you right, 'cos if they don't they'll have me to answer to." Tony puffed up his chest and flexed his muscles. "Then again, they might have to fight me to get to you in the first place!" He struck a ridiculous pose for her, her laughter doing more for him than a dozen drinks ever could.

"You wish Tony!" she giggled, "I don't go out with old men!"

He clutched his chest, pretending to be wounded. "Woman, how you hurt me with your cruel words," he cried.

"Oh yeah right, whatever," she flipped her hair back and glanced at the clock behind the bar. "I gotta get back to work, Sandy'll do her nut if I slack off! She's hopin' to get out of here early." Lulu made a face.

"Okay baby-girl, you take it easy hey?" Tony drew her into a hug once more, kissing the top of her head affectionately. He threw a few dollars on the bar and got up to leave. "You make sure you text me when you get home, I like to know you're okay."

"Yes Dad," she huffed good-naturedly. He flashed his patented mega-watt smile at her as he walked out. Lulu shook her head to herself, reached over the bar and grabbed a drinks tray. It was gonna be another long night.

* * *

It was nearly 2am before Dooley's Bar closed for the night, the last of the Thursday night drinkers having been hustled out. Lulu sang to herself as she went about cleaning and restocking the bar – a job normally reserved for the bartenders, but she liked to help out. "Hey Sandy," she said as she mopped the floor, "remember I'm not doing the lunch shift tomorrow, Papa has a doctor's appointment."

"I know honey, I remembered," the older woman replied patiently. She never ceased to be surprised at the maturity of her young waitress; most girls her age couldn't deal with half the stuff life threw at her, and she just kept dancing through it all. "What's this one for?"

"It looks like he's moving up the list for a transplant," Lulu replied happily. Patrick MacDermott had been a member of the Provisional Irish Republican Army since he was a teen, and at the age of 27 had been interned in Her Majesty's Prison Maze where he declared his loyalty to Ireland by participating in the 1981 hunger strike. His weight had plummeted, and predictably so did his health – his kidneys the worst affected after being forcibly fed contaminated water by the prison guards. He was eventually released, and twelve months after that moved his young family to the United States. His kidneys were to plague his life thereafter, and he required thrice-weekly dialysis, and as the years wore on, a home nurse was the only way to remain living at home and not in a hospital. Things took a turn for the worse when his beloved wife died, but his children stepped up to the plate. The costs for the treatments and the home nurse ate up most of Lulu's and her brother Liam's salaries – but neither child would utter a word of complaint. They simply did as all good Irish do, and kept on going.

"That's good to hear hon, I'm happy. Tell Paddy I'll be honoured to serve him his first pint when he gets the new one!" smiled Sandy. "Now get outta here girl, you've got a busy day tomorrow. I'll finish up here."

Lulu threw her boss a grateful glance and raced into the storeroom to pick up her handbag. She skipped towards the door, stopping only to peck Sandy on the cheek. "See you tomorrow!" she called, slamming the door shut behind her and climbing into the waiting taxi.

* * *

Tony woke up the next morning and stretched. A Friday sleep-in, he thought. Does it get any better? He curled over onto his side and pulled the sheet over his head. Then it hit him. He didn't hear his phone beep early this morning. Probably just slept through it, he reasoned, but his gut started twanging. He reached out to the bedside table and grabbed his phone, and checked it for messages. None. He tried not to be too concerned; after all she _was_ a grown girl – she sometimes forgot to check in with him, especially if it was late or she was beyond tired. His fingers hesitated over the buttons – should he call? Or would that seem too overbearing? The universe proceeded to answer his question – his phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID he saw that it was an unlisted number. He pressed the Answer button. "DiNozzo."

"_Is this Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo of NCIS?" _a male voice asked.

"It is."

"_Agent DiNozzo, this is Detective Gareth Murray with Metro Special Victims."_

"What can I do for you Detective? It's my day off, I'm sure if you rang the Navy Yard they'll put you on to the rota team." Dammit, he thought to himself, why do they always ring him?

"_Actually, this regards a new case. Your business card was found at a crime scene. Does the name Louisa MacDermott mean anything to you?"_

Tony's gut clenched. "What's happened to her?"

"_Maybe you'd better come down to the hospital. I'm at the Georgetown University Emergency department. Miss MacDermott has been attacked."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2. **

It felt like he broke every speed limit known to man kind as he drove to the hospital, his heart in his mouth. What the hell happened last night, he wondered. He parked illegally in the entrance of the Emergency Department and sprinted in. "Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS," he panted to the nurse at the desk while flashing his ID, "I'm here for Louisa MacDermott."

"Exam room 4, but you can't go in there!" The nurse was too late to stop him as he hurried down the corridor.

He came to an abrupt stop when he recognised two of Metro's finest standing outside the room. "You DiNozzo?" one of them asked gruffly. Tony nodded. "In you go – Murray's expecting you."

He opened the door and stifled a gasp. Lulu was a beaten and bloodied pulp. A man stood and extended his hand. "DiNozzo. Gareth Murray, this is my partner Annie-Lyn Stokes. Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."

Tony shook the proffered hand, barely registering the other man's words. "What happened?"

"Why don't we take a walk. I've got a few questions for you myself." Murray's tone was firm but gentle at the same time. Tony allowed himself to be led from the room, and he followed the detective down the hallway to the waiting area, Detective Stokes bringing up the rear. "Agent DiNozzo, we're all LEO's here, so let's can the small talk for now. So I'm gonna ask you a few questions, you'll give me truthful answers and then you can go for your life. I'll tell you whatever I can. Okay?" He didn't wait for a response. "First up, what's your relationship with Miss MacDermott?"

Tony stared at the floor, his voice distant and hard. "She works at Dooley's Bar on Michigan. I drink there. That's where I know her from."

"So why would she have your card?"

"Months ago... I busted up a fight in the bar, these guys were making real assholes of themselves, giving her a hard time. I chased them out, told her if she had any problems she just needed to call me."

"And she kept your card this whole time?" Stokes' voice was sceptical.

"We became friends. I try to keep an eye on her, she's got it rough. Her brother's a jarhead, we look after the jarheads." He met Murray's eyes for the first time. "You think I had something to do with this?"

"Just laying some groundwork," said Murray smoothly. "Did you see her last night?"

Tony jerked his head. "I arrived at the bar around 9, stayed for a quick drink then left. We chatted briefly, she said she had to get back to work. I made her promise to text me when she got home, just so I'd know she was alright." His voice threatened to crack but he held his composure.

"Is that normal? I mean, does she text you every night?" pressed Stokes.

"No. No, just when I've seen her, but we talk every few days just to keep in touch. She's a good kid." The pain was evident in his voice. "Look, my DNA and prints are in the system, so when you process your crime scene you'll know I wasn't there. My team has been on rotation for the last 3 weeks, I left the bar around 10, went home and crashed. We're on a 4-dayer now."

Murray nodded and made a few more notes. "Thanks, DiNozzo. You kept your end of the bargain, so here's mine. 911 gets a call around 2:45 this morning, woman saying there's screaming and cussin' next door to her. Patrol responds, they see the front door open and blood everywhere. Miss MacDermott is on the floor unconscious and beaten near to death, her father's dead. Gutted, literally. You know anything about her family?"

"Just that her dad has had kidney problems for years, something to do with when he was in the IRA. I don't know all the details."

"MacDermott was IRA huh? Well that makes sense," said Stokes.

Tony looked confused. "What makes sense?"

"There was a name written in blood on the front door. P. Ó Néill. A popular IRA signature back in the day."

"So... you think this is IRA related?" Tony scratched his head.

She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine DiNozzo."

"You made the notification to the brother yet?"

"Nope. Was hoping you could help with that."

Tony sighed heavily; so much for the long weekend. Then he mentally slapped himself in the back of the head – Lulu needed him dammit! "C'mon," he said, "we'll go to the Navy Yard, see what we can find out."

The three walked back down the hallway, pausing briefly as Tony ducked into the room where Lulu lay, unconscious and on a ventilator. She's just a baby, he thought sadly. He carefully pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering, "I'll get the bastards who did this Lu. That's a promise."

* * *

Tony drove to the Yard in a daze, followed closely by the two detectives. He signed them in and they all caught the elevator up to the bullpen. He sat behind his desk and gestured for the other two to pull up a seat while he logged into his computer.

"So this is what it's like to have a workable budget," said Stokes, looking at the hardware surrounding her with a hint of longing.

Tony smirked. "Are you kidding? We're at the bottom of the food chain here!"

"Man, I would happily come to the dark side if it meant I could play with stuff like this," she said.

Murray snorted. "Yeah, right. If I had a dollar for every time you threatened to quit Annie, my retirement would be a helluva lot sooner."

Tony appreciated the banter; it distracted him from the images in his head. He fired up a few programs on his computer and began the search for Liam MacDermott. "Okay," he said, hitting a few more buttons and bringing the man's service record up on the plasma. "PFC Liam Patrick MacDermott, 25. Born and bred right here in good ol' DC. Clean record. Currently in..." he clicked the remote again "...Afghanistan. Damn."

"So how do we get a hold of him?" asked Stokes.

"With difficulty," commented Murray grimly.

"Not as hard as you think," Tony grinned. He scrolled through MacDermott's records until he found his unit number and CO. He picked up his phone and dialled an extension. "Marty," he said, "Yeah, it's Tony. Listen pal, I need a favour. Can you get me a sat-link to Afghanistan? 6th Division, Foxtrot-Yankee company... yeah I know, but it's urgent. Trying to track down PFC Liam MacDermott, but get his CO first... Major Stephen Walker. Thanks buddy, I owe you!" He hung up the phone. "We'll have a link with them within the hour."

Murray shook his head in amazement. "Annie, I think I'm gonna join you in the exodus."

"Agent DiNozzo," a voice boomed suddenly from the upper level.

"Oh shit," he muttered to the others. Out aloud he said, "Director, hi."

Vance walked down the stairs and joined them in the bullpen. "What brings you in DiNozzo? I thought I took your team off rota for the weekend."

"You did. I'm just giving Metro a hand." Tony gestured to the two detectives who were trying without much success to look inconspicuous. "Detective Gareth Murray, Detective Annie-Lyn Stokes, may I introduce you to Director Leon Vance."

Vance stepped forward and shook hands warmly with them both. "What brings you into contact with my agent this morning detectives?"

"New case, sir. Agent DiNozzo's card was found at a crime scene this morning, we contacted him."

"And this requires you to be using NCIS facilities because...?"

"Two victims, Director – one dead, the other barely hanging on. His son, her brother – he's a Marine, currently on tour. Agent DiNozzo was kind enough to offer his assistance any way he could." Murray stood his ground against the Director.

Now armed with a few details of the case, Vance was all ears. "I see. Who has jurisdiction over this?"

Stokes stepped forward. "Currently Metro do sir, but we have reason to believe that there could be IRA involvement."

"IRA? Interpol declared them a terrorist organisation back in the late 90's," mused Vance. "Shouldn't we be turning this over to the FBI?"

"With respect sir, we're not too interested in the IRA. At the moment we're more concerned with finding the bastards who killed a sick man, beat the hell out of his 22 year old daughter and left her there to die. You can fight out the politics with our Captain – we just want to find them."

Tony quietly marvelled at the scene in front of him. He often thought that Gibbs was the only person tough enough to go toe to toe with Vance and win, now it looked as though Detective Murray was on his way to victory.

Vance stared hard at Murray for a moment before speaking. "DiNozzo," he said, not breaking his gaze. "You're on your own time until Tuesday morning, correct?"

"Uh, yeah," said Tony, trying desperately to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"Whatever you do with your own time is your business. If you see fit to assist the detectives in their case then you are more than welcome to. However – once you are back on the clock, you will not focus on any work other than your current NCIS caseload, is that clear?"

"Crystal," he replied curtly.

"Detectives, if there is anything myself or my Agency can be of assistance with, please let me know." With that, Vance turned and went back upstairs.

"What the hell was that all about?" hissed Stokes, watching the Director take the stairs two at a time.

Tony shrugged. "Hell if I know. Look, you guys want my help on this?"

"Only if you want in." Tony gave Murray a murderous look. "Right, course you do." His phone beeped and he glanced down at it. "Captain wants us to check in," he said to Stokes.

"I'll call him. Tony, mind if I borrow a phone?"

Tony pointed over to Ziva's desk. "Knock yourself out." To Murray he said, "I got a hinky feeling about this IRA connection."

"Me too," Murray admitted.

"You got pictures from the crime scene?" Murray pulled a USB stick out of his pocket and handed it to him. "Thanks. We can run it through the FBI terrorism databases, see if anything hits."

"They won't get suspicious?"

Tony grinned at him. "They won't even know we've been in there."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

The first thing Murray and Stokes noticed when the elevator doors opened was music. Loud, angry music. They glanced at each other, wondering what they'd gotten themselves into. Tony on the other hand barely seemed to notice the ruckus, as he beckoned them to follow him into the lab. Reluctantly, they did so, and were astonished at the sight that greeted them – a woman in black, studded, platform boots, with black pigtails and tattoos, clad in a tartan miniskirt, baby tee and a lab coat.

She looked up from the array of petri dishes on the bench in front of her and grinned. "Tony!" she cried, flying into his arms. "You're here!"

"I'm here Abs," he chuckled, giving her a quick squeeze before disentangling himself.

She stepped back and frowned at him, then giving him a quick slap up the back of his head. "You're meant to be on a break mister!" she chastised. "You're gonna work yourself into an early grave if you're not careful! I've seen your cholesterol levels, they're not good. Too much pizza and not enough vegies. Too much work and not enough play! Jeez!"

He shot a disarming smile her way. "Abs, you can yell at me all you want when I'm back on the clock. Right now, I'm on my own dime and I – _we_ – could really use your help."

Only then did Abby really notice the two detectives in the room. "Huh. So who're these guys?" she demanded.

"Detectives Gareth Murray and Annie-Lyn Stokes, meet Abby Scuito, the world's greatest forensic scientist."

Abby smiled at them, then shot a worried glance at Tony. "You're not in any trouble are you Tony? 'Cos if you are, I don't know if I can help, I mean I'll always help you but if it's the wrong thing to do then I don't know if I can, I don't wanna get in trouble but I don't want you to be in trouble either!" The words tumbled over each other in her haste to get them out.

"Abby. Relax. I'm not in trouble. Just giving these guys a bit of a hand, that's all."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay! So whaddya need?"

"I need you to run some pictures through the FBI terrorism database." He handed her the USB.

"Tony! You know how to do that, you don't need me!"

"I know how to do it, I just don't know how to do it and not get caught. We don't want them sniffing around just yet."

Realisation dawned on her face and she giggled wickedly. "Sweet. And I suppose Vance doesn't know about this?"

"Well, not in as many words," Tony hedged, playing for time.

Murray thought this was a good time to reassert his authority. "Miss Scuito, there was a name written in blood on the wall of the crime scene. Detective Stokes believes it is a reference to the IRA, albeit an obscure one. We'd look it up at our precinct but we're like Agent DiNozzo – we don't want to raise anyone's suspicions."

Abby's eyed bulged. "IRA? Which part?"

The two men looked at her blankly. Stokes, on the other hand understood exactly. " P. Ó Néill was a popular moniker used by the Provisional IRA from the 1970s up until the ceasefire in the 90s. It used to be signed to letters from the IRA to public figures, it was also scrawled on walls by some of the more daring vigilantes after public acts of violence and retribution." Murray stared at her, mouth slightly agape. "What?" she shrugged. "I paid attention in college."

Abby began loading the images off the USB stick and fired up the FBI database. "So should I be looking at old threats or new?" she asked Stokes.

"Start with old and we can work up from there. It's a pretty obscure reference, but maybe the way the old man was killed will narrow the search."

Tony's cell began buzzing. "DiNozzo," he answered. "Yeah? Already? Good on you Marty, I knew you'd do it! On our way." He hung up without saying goodbye. "MacDermott and his CO are standing by. Feed will be live in 3 minutes. Come on." He turned and began walking out, quickly followed by Murray and Stokes. "Call me if you get any hits Abs!"

* * *

The three stood in MTAC, waiting to go online with Walker. Stokes was almost quivering with excitement at the high-tech equipment all around her; she roamed around the room studying everything closely. Tony watched her in amusement, her and McGee would get on like a house on fire, he thought.

"Agent DiNozzo," said one of the technicians. Tony nodded and stepped forward, watching the big screen flicker to life.

Private MacDermott, Major Walker, we appreciate you talking to us. I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo of NCIS, this is Detective Gareth Murray and Detective Annie-Lyn Stokes, who are with the DC Metropolitan PD."

"What's going on Agent DiNozzo? MacDermott's due to move out on patrol shortly," said Walker.

Tony ignored him, focussing his attention on the Private. "MacDermott, we are very sorry to give you this news over a satellite feed, but we need to let you know that your father was murdered in the early hours of this morning."

Liam MacDermott paled quickly. "Oh sweet Jesus," he said, crossing himself. "Is Lulu okay?"

Tony chose his words carefully. "She was brutally attacked. She's in a critical condition but she's stable. I'm sorry Private."

Liam choked back a sob; Major Walker clapped a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Easy, soldier, easy," they heard him murmur.

Murray stepped forward. "Private, we need to ask a couple of questions about your father. Do you know if there were any recent threats made towards him that your sister might not have known about? Anything that might be tied back to his days in the IRA?"

Liam shook his head. "I couldn't tell you Detective, honestly. Papa never really spoke of the old country anymore, he used to say that the 'Shinners' abandoned him after the Strike."

Tony was nonplussed. "'Shinners'?"

"Sinn Féin, Agent DiNozzo – the IRA's political side," whispered Stokes.

"Could any of them have held a grudge against him after all these years?" pressed Murray.

"I don't know, but I don't think they would. He was as loyal as they came sir."

Murray looked at Tony, who jerked his head in agreement. "Okay Private, thank you for your time."

Tony indicated to the techs to cut the feed. "What do you think?"

"I think we're up the creek without a paddle, DiNozzo. Let's hope your Abby has some good news for us."

* * *

Tony, Murray and Stokes headed back down to the lab. Abby turned to greet them with a huge smile on her face.

"Let me guess," said Tony, "you've got something?"

"Better than something! This is the mother-lode of all somethings!" she squealed, turning her attention back to her computer. She brought up several images on the plasma. "This is your crime scene, right? Old guy killed, pretty well hacked up, the works. Well..." her fingers flew over the keyboard, changing the pictures. "This didn't come from the FBI. Well, not _just_ the FBI. Try Interpol. MI5. CIA. All of them! The whole freakin' alphabet is here!"

"Abby!"

"Sorry, Tony. This was no random crime, this was almost definitely an IRA hit."

Stokes stepped closer to the plasma, studying the screen. "How can you tell?"

"The way the body's have been cut up. See, I did some research. Back in the 60s and 70s there was this guy, his name was Thomas Kiely. He was a serious bad-ass, used to 'take care' of problem people. Basically, anyone who upset the order and balance. People that were high up in the party and then defected were taken out. The authorities had a feeling it was him, but they could never find him."

"And you found him?" Stokes' tone was incredulous. Meanwhile Murray's phone rang. He excused himself and walked off to answer it.

"Yep. He died in 1986. But this is where it gets interesting – one of his known associates was none other than Patrick MacDermott."

Murray hung up his phone and swore. "That was the hospital. There was a breakdown in security. Lulu's been abducted."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4. Thanks for your reviews, I appreciate them so much. Also, just so you know, I am taking a little poetic license with the historical information, manipulating it to fit my story. Personally, my mob are from the South, even though we're Proddies – Great Grandad got the family out before the Rising. So there you go!**

Tony rode with the detectives – Murray drives like Gibbs, he thought as he held on tightly to his seat belt. They flew into the emergency department car park and sprinted inside. Quite simply, chaos reigned inside. Uniformed cops were everywhere, questioning witnesses, photographing anything that could be construed as evidence, and a fine cloud of fingerprinting dust permeated the room.

Stokes quickly took charge of the crime scene. "What the hell happened here?" she demanded angrily. A few uniforms exchanged uncomfortable looks and deliberately avoided her eyes; something told Tony that they'd been on the receiving end of the woman's wrath before. "Porelli," she barked, "report."

Officer Porelli stepped forward; he was the only one who refused to be intimidated by the Detective. "Hospital called it in just under 30 minutes ago, said that the fire alarm had been tripped. Once they figured out it was a false alarm, they did a head count. Found young Miss MacDermott missing, all other patients accounted for."

"Dammit," she spat. "How the hell did they get her off the ventilator?"

"Easy Boss – she was taken off it just before the alarm went."

"So they were watching," Tony murmured to Murray, who nodded his agreement. Porelli looked curiously at Tony but didn't say anything.

Stokes caught the glance. "NCIS have been read into this; MacDermott's older brother is a Marine," she said by way of explanation. "Keep working the scene Porelli. I want all the surveillance tapes, inside and outside. We're on the clock now people and time is against us, "she called out, "the victim is critically injured, we need to get to her quickly." She sighed, and beckoned to Tony and Murray to join her at the nurse's desk. "Tony, how long will it take her brother to get here?"

Tony shrugged. "Depends on when they approve his leave, whether there's a seat available – lots of things. Probably by tomorrow some time, but we'll get confirmation and an ETA from his CO once he's on his way." He rubbed a hand through his hair. "So Papa MacDermott was a bad guy once upon a time, he gets whacked and now Lulu's missing. If this isn't connected to the old boy's past life I'll eat my shoe."

"Can we arrange to have Liam under a detail?" asked Murray.

"Can do. Never thought I'd say this, but he's probably safer in Afghanistan. I'll take care of it though," Tony assured him. "We're gonna have problems though."

"What? With Liam?"

"Nope. With him." Tony pointed to the doors, where Tobias Fornell had just walked in.

* * *

The first thing Lulu noticed when she woke up was the pain – an all-engulfing, white hot pain. She couldn't help herself; she started to cry, softly at first, then louder as the sobs took over her body.

"Shh," soothed a voice, a soft Irish lilt that reminded her of her mother. A hand stretched out to stroke her hair; she instinctively flinched. The hand persisted, and Lulu, too sore and weak to struggle, allowed it.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her throat dry.

"Time for questions later, muirnín*, for now you must rest," the woman said quietly.

"Papa? What happened to my father?" Lulu cried, but there were only footsteps, as the woman walked away, closing a door behind her. Lulu struggled to sit up but fell back on the mattress with a yelp, as her bruised and battered body made its protests known. She lay on the bed and cried again, until unconsciousness enveloped her once more.

* * *

Fornell walked briskly towards DiNozzo, Murray and Stokes, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Good to see you DiNozzo. I know you had planned to call me, I guess it just slipped your mind huh?"

"Fornell," said Tony tightly. "What the hell are you doing here? This is a Metro case."

"That involves IRA activity. That makes it a federal matter."

"Wrong country," shot Murray. "I'm gonna call the Captain," he mumbled to Stokes, who nodded slightly.

"The IRA is considered a terrorist organisation," said Fornell calmly. "Terrorism on American soil makes it an issue for the FBI and Homeland Security. Seeing as how I'm both..." he shrugged.

"The current IRA is considered terrorist," said Stokes. "We're investigating links to the Provisionals, which up until 1996 were a legitimate organisation. Guess we don't need your help after all," she finished sweetly, but with fire in her eyes.

Fornell didn't back down. "Detective Stokes, whether you like it or not this now falls under my jurisdiction. There's more to this family than meets the eye, and more than you could possibly imagine. Now, you've done admirably up to this point, but it would be in your best interests to hand over everything you've got."

"Jesus Christ Fornell," Tony exploded, "who the hell do you think you are? These guys have done the ground work on this, these guys have got almost a dozen uniforms searching for the girl, the old man is in the morgue with _their_ medical examiner... you think you can just rock up and take over?"

Stokes put a hand on his shoulder, silently urging him to quit. She didn't know this FBI agent and sure as hell didn't want to make things worse. "Tony," she said in a low voice, "bitching at this asshole isn't gonna help us find Lulu."

He looked at her, but before he could say anything, Murray rejoined the group with a thoroughly disgusted look on his face. "Captain is ordering us to work with you Fornell. Tony, the captain knows he can't tell you to do squat, but the word from your director is if you can play nicely in the sandbox then you can tag along." Tony bristled, but didn't say anything.

"Well, that settles that then," said Fornell airily, a smug smile forming on his lips. "My agents are on the scene, they'll take over from your officers. Shall we go?"

Stokes and Murray threw foul looks his way before joining their officers and updating them. Tony just stood in front of Fornell, his expression unreadable. "Tobias, keep this in mind – we've wasted too much time with a god-damn pissing contest. Anything happens to her, it's on your head," he growled.

"You been spendin' too much time with your Boss DiNozzo," he said lightly. "Why so serious?" Tony just glared at him. "Ahh, it's personal," he smirked. "I thought there was a rule against getting emotionally involved with a case?"

"Gibbs' rules, not mine," Tony shot back. His temper was flaring, but he kept it under control. "Look Fornell, I just want to find the girl. That's all. You guys can have all the glory."

Fornell held the younger man's gaze for a moment, before nodding and walking out of the building. "You comin'?" he called over his shoulder. Tony hesitated for a moment before following him out to the car park.

* * *

Shit, he thought. Damn, damn, buggery, bollocky, shit! This was _not_ supposed to happen, not like this. The old man, he expected – after all, he'd said too much after he left the old country. But the attack on the girl was completely out of the blue. They'd said they wouldn't touch her, they'd leave her alone. He paced, restless and frantic. He needed to make contact with them, see what he could do. The cops were involved, and the Feds as well. Jesus, what a royal mess, he thought. He couldn't wait anymore, he had to call. He knew it was a big risk, but he was in too deep – what more could they do to him? He lined up for one of the two phones available, and waited, fidgeting impatiently. Finally, he was able to make his call. Tucking himself against the wall to indicate the need for privacy, he listened to the ringing of the other phone down the crackly line.

"_Yes?"_

"What the hell happened?" Shit, probably take it town a notch, he chastised himself.

"_Ah, yes – I thought we'd be hearing from you soon." _The voice sounded amused.

"You said you wouldn't hurt her."

"_Yes well, we didn't expect her to arrive when she did. She interrupted our work."_

"Just... let her go. I'll be back in town soon, you can have me."

The voice on the other end laughed without humour. _"Oh we'll have you. You owe us. __Loyalty is everything, it is ever lasting and it is in the blood. There's no escaping the old country." _The line went dead; the call had been disconnected.

Liam MacDermott hung up the phone on his end, shaking. This was too messed up. He was in too deep, and there was no way out.

* * *

AN: * _muirn__í__n_, darling, sweetheart – Gaelic.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5. Firstly – a huuuuuge mofo of an apology to all of you waiting ever so patiently. I have started studying externally, I'm finally a working girl, my social life actually exists more than just drinking with my neighbour, and my health has (for a change) been absolutely cracker! I've been able to log on and read, just haven't had the nads to write. So I *think* this chappy will be okay for now - I know how it's all going to work in my head, it's just a question of being able to put it together. So with a bit of luck there'll be more updates sooner rather than later. Thanks for reading anyways, I do appreciate it! xoxoxoxoxoxo **

The silence was palpable as Stokes, Murray and DiNozzo took their seats in the conference room at the FBI's Hoover building; each quietly seething at just how quickly their case had been taken off them. Fornell chose not to notice the tension; rather he fired up the laptop and started moving images around on the plasma screen.

"1983, Patrick and Ursula MacDermott emigrated to the United States," he began in a business-like tone. "Patrick had recently been released from HM Prison Maze where he had served time for conspiracy to commit murder. He participated in the hunger strike of '81, became critically ill but made somewhat of a recovery. He was released in July of '82. Rumours flew that he had passed valuable information regarding his colleagues and the inner workings of the Party to the Brits and they arranged his emigration."

Tony couldn't help himself. "And this has what exactly to do with our case?"

Fornell merely raised an eyebrow at him, then continued as if there'd been no interruption. "The rumours turned out to be true. Once the British government were able to guarantee him safe passage to the US he began talking. Keep in mind he was still somewhat of an underling in the grand scheme of things, but he knew enough to cause a shit-storm. His information led to the eventual capture and execution of Thomas Kiely, a well known IRA hit man, as well as several other players."

"So Abby was right? This was a revenge killing?" asked Stokes, busily making notes.

"In a way, Detective, she was. It seems young Liam found out more about his father's activities back in Ireland and wasn't too happy about how things turned out. He's been feeding information to a rebel group called 'Sean Saol', literally meaning _old life_."

"What kind of information?"

"Namely Patrick's former partners in crime – basically, who he sold out. There could be more but we don't know about it," Fornell said frankly.

"So let me get this straight," said Murray, sitting forward in his chair. "Old man MacDermott made a deal with the devil to come to America with his wife. They arrive, have a family and live happily ever after. The wife dies, his health goes downhill, and all of a sudden someone whacks him? Why now, why not 20 years ago? It doesn't make sense."

"They might not have had the info they needed," Stokes argued. "Or maybe they didn't have the motivation..." Her eyes widened. "They killed the old man and took Lulu as collateral damage? They're using her to get to Liam!"

Tony mulled over that for a minute. He looked at Fornell. "Is there anything that suggests this Sean Saol crowd are in the country?"

Fornell nodded, and pulled up two pictures on the plasma. "These two are US citizens – James Williams and Ella Collins. This one," he said, bringing a third image into play, "has dual citizenship. Ursula Daley, better known as -"

"Ursula MacDermott," finished Murray, stunned. "She's alive."

* * *

"Come, my love, you must open your eyes. You need to eat and drink." The soft voice was back.

Lulu struggled to open her emerald eyes, both of them black and swollen from the beating. "Who are you?" she tried again. There was no response, but a strong set of arms wrapped themselves around her and helped her to a sitting position. Lulu blinked and tried to focus on the figure in front of her. "I know you," she said simply.

"You did know me, once upon a time," the voice murmured. "Here, drink." A bottle of water with a straw was put in front of Lulu and she drank greedily, desperate to soothe her parched throat. "I know much about you Louisa, and yet not nearly enough." She set the bottle to one side, and picked up a first-aid kit. "First things first aingeal*, we must tend to your injuries."

Lulu was too exhausted to protest; besides, she felt instinctively that this woman was kind. The woman carefully removed her hospital gown and began dressing the wounds. Gentle hands roamed over the young woman's body, applying antiseptic and bandages where needed. "You have some cracked ribs Louisa, I fear they were too rough with you," she said quietly.

Lulu let out a short laugh which quickly turned to a moan of pain. "They beat the shit out of me," she hissed, "so yeah, you could say they were too rough with me."

The woman was unperturbed. "That was not meant to happen child, I apologise." She completed her ministrations and re-tied the gown around her patient.

"Why did they do it?" Lulu whimpered. "Why did they kill my papa? He hasn't done anything wrong!"

"I'm sorry, but he did. He did many things wrong." The woman's voice was still gentle, but unapologetic. "The least of which was betray his country."

Lulu tried to process this. "But... he never! He loved the old country! He nearly died for them!"

"I wish I could say that it is the truth, but it is not. Your father sold out a lot of people, he was responsible for the death of almost a dozen men. Good men, patriotic men – men that really _would_ have died than betray Mother Ireland! Your father was not one of them, he lost his faith." There was an unexpected hit of venom in this woman's voice. "He turned his back on the old country, turned his back on me! I had to choose between my family and my country. He made me choose!"

"Oh Jesus," Lulu gasped, as it dawned on her – she knew this woman all right. "Mama?"

* * *

Stokes glared at her laptop – she wasn't getting anywhere with all this so-called new information! "This is bullshit," she said finally, slamming it shut. "I can't find anything useful on Williams and Collins, nothing! Not even so much as a friggin' parking ticket. Can't we just go 'round there and beat them until they talk? Isn't that how it's done in the FBI Agent Fornell?" She shot a sly wink in Tony's direction, who smirked.

Fornell didn't look up from his own work. "That's the CIA you're thinking of, Detective," he replied calmly. He glanced over at Tony, who was still smiling to himself. "Unless of course you've met Agent DiNozzo's partner?"

"Hey, we've got Ziva under control these days," Tony protested.

"I still say I'm gonna be a Fed when I grow up," Stokes commented, now leafing through her stack of notes. "You've got a real budget, no one questions your authority, you can pretty much get away with anything." She yawned widely and stretched.

"Nahhh, that only happens in the movies," said Tony, trying to muffle his own yawn. He glanced at his watch. "Shit, no wonder I'm hungry, it's almost 8pm! Any one for food? Fornell, you got a catering budget these days, or is it still Dutch treat?"

The FBI Agent sighed and tossed his wallet to Tony. "Order Chinese, I'll buy."

45 minutes later, the food arrived and the four LEOs sat once more in silence, this time cramming food into their mouths.

"So," said Tony, around a mouthful of noodles, "what does Liam have that these guys want? He's a shitkicker in the Corp for chrissakes!"

"Access to weapons?" asked Stokes.

"Nope – the IRA have friends in high places Stokes, they wouldn't need him," countered Fornell.

"Well, what then?" she shot back, clearly frustrated.

"Loyalty," said Murray. The others looked at him in confusion. He glanced up at them briefly before returning his attention to his laptop and bringing a webpage up onto the plasma. "I found his blog – he goes on and on about how proud he is of being Irish, how the British are still calling the shots even after all these years and how he's ashamed of his father."

The four of them read the words on the screen:

_Ol' Paddy is the scum of the earth – he sold out to those English pig dogs for a free ticket to the States. There is no greater love than that for your country, but he just whored himself out to the highest bidder. I'm an **Irish**-American and damn proud of it! _

_Paddy used to tell us stories of the old country when he was high on his meds. Didn't take much to get him to talk about his time in Maze, and then some. Gutless asshole sold out his buddies, hell his BROTHERS just so he could get out of jail. I used to think my Papa was a hero... I'd rather dance with the Devil himself than listen to that shit again._

"Wow," Stokes whistled. "Sounds like Liam needs a hug." Murray lightly punched her in the shoulder, grinning.

"So, they just want him as another soldier?" Tony frowned. "That doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it? It's not like there's a shortage of volunteers over there."

"Makes sense if the leader of Sean Saol is Thomas Kiely's son," Murray smiled grimly and clicked his mouse onto an image to blow it up. "Meet Damien Kiely."

* * *

A/N: * _aingeal_ angel – Gaelic


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6. Bloody hell – two updates in less than a week! What's going on huh? Well, I'll tell you – remember last time I said I had a great new job? Fuckers have cut my hours. Oh well. Means I've got more time for putting off doing my assignments! Hurrah! Please R&R xoxo**

Liam MacDermott strapped himself into the jump seat of the C-40 aircraft that was taking him home. He was sweating profusely, which had nothing to do with the heat. He knew – he _knew_ – that he'd bitten off more than he could chew when Damien Kiely first contacted him, but he'd allowed himself to be swept along in the talk of patriotism. Hell, it was why he'd joined the Marines – get world class warrior training before relocating to Ireland and taking up the cause his father had abandoned.

Liam squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and tried to find a tolerable position. He had started writing his blog a few years back, before he joined the Corp. It had started out with his pride of his Irish heritage, but as time went on, he revealed just how angry and disillusioned he was with his father. Anger quickly turned to venom, and he would rant and vent his spleen into what he thought was the relative safety of cyberspace. So when he received an email from Damien Kiely, he was surprised – and a little flattered. This was the son of one of the most notorious soldiers in IRA history for goodness sake, wanting to talk to _him_! A regular correspondence quickly sprang up between the two – one wanting to avenge his father's death, the other wanting to make up for his father's shortcomings. Liam was at a disadvantage though. Damien had been brought up with the knowledge that Patrick MacDermott had sold his father out. He also knew that a good soldier bides his time and waits for the opportune moment to strike. Liam knew nothing of the agenda Kiely possessed; instead he thought he was being presented with an opportunity to right what he felt was a terrible wrong. So when he learned that Sean Saol had taken his beloved little sister, the nagging feeling that had been haunting him for the last few months engulfed him – he was officially in over his head, and he didn't have the faintest idea how to fix it.

* * *

Damien Kiely smiled to himself – this was going better than he'd ever imagined. Shortly, he'd have MacDermott at his beck and call, going well beyond the limits of any man, and all to save his precious little sister. He ran his tongue thoughtfully over his lips as he thought of the pretty young girl, all but rendered helpless because of his colleague's handiwork. He was certain that she'd do anything if it meant her brother would be spared. Oh yes, he thought, with a macabre delight, this was going to be better than anything he could dream up.

* * *

Ursula Daley moved quietly into the room where her daughter lay, woozy from painkillers and the revelation that her mother was still alive. "Louisa, are you awake?" she murmured. Lulu turned her head the other way, steadfastly ignoring the older woman. "I know you can hear me," she pressed on. "You need to understand my love, I did not want to leave you or your brother with Paddy, but I had no choice. He committed the ultimate betrayal."

Lulu shot her head back around and glared at Ursula with fire in her eyes. "Betrayal? You talk to me about betrayal? You left us! We went to your funeral! I put flowers on your grave once a week for Christ's sake!"

"Do not take the Lord's name in vain, you were raised better than that," Ursula admonished quietly.

"Fuck you! Don't tell me how to behave! You lost that right years ago _Ursula_," Lulu spat.

"Your father sold out many good men in exchange for his freedom. You were raised in a country free from civil war and violence. You cannot understand this Louisa, I know, but he committed a terrible sin – not against the Church, but against his country, and in Ireland that is almost the same thing." Ursula began to pace to hide her agitation. "My brothers died for their country in prison, your father should have done the same. He took the coward's way out, and now he's paid the price."

Lulu glared once more at her mother, but her resolve was weakening. "Papa never mentioned you had brothers," she said softly.

Tears sprang to the world-weary eyes as Ursula sat next to the bed. "I'm sure your Papa didn't tell you many things, but I cannot tell you now. It is too hard."

The young woman laid her head back on the cushion and closed her eyes. "I missed you so much Mama," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I don't understand though – why am I here? Why did you take me from the hospital? Why did you let them hurt me? I thought you loved me!" The tears that had been threatening for some time trickled out of the corners of her tightly closed eyes.

"I did not want them to hurt you, my love, you must believe me." Ursula reached out and wiped the tears gently. "These soldiers are young and inexperienced. You came home and they panicked."

"So what's gonna happen to me now?" she asked pathetically. Lulu hated herself for trusting this woman, but she knew that she had no choice.

"I don't know, muirnín*, I just don't know."

* * *

Tony DiNozzo exhaled heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. He'd given sleep up as a bad joke a few hours previously, but force of habit kept him lying in bed to try and trick his body into resting. Fuck it, he thought and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 0430, he read. "Close enough for jazz," he said aloud, and kicked the sheets off in frustration. He pulled himself off the bed and threw some workout clothes and trainers on. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well do something constructive. Tucking his gun and ID into the waistband of his sweatpants, he grabbed his iPod and headed out the door.

The first two miles were torture – his bad knee was aching, his lungs were burning and despite the coolness of the pre-dawn he was sweating. He pressed on, feeling as though all this pain would be worth it if he could think of something to blow Lulu's case wide open. The thought of her lying somewhere without proper medical attention fired him on and as he closed off his third mile he had found his rhythm. His feet pounded the bitumen as he focussed on the images in his mind. So intent was he on his workout that he almost didn't notice the car following him.

The SUV had been tailing him for a couple of blocks before Tony was certain. He deviated from his favourite route and headed down towards his local park before glancing over his shoulder; he was still being watched. Smiling grimly to himself, he weaved in and out through the trees that lined the footpath, keeping the SUV in the corner of his vision. Suddenly there was a screech of tyres as the vehicle accelerated to catch him. Tony pushed his own foot down, so to speak, and began sprinting off the sidewalk and into the park. He became aware of a car door slamming in the distance and heavy footsteps running after him. He reached for his gun and had barely secured it in his grip when he was tackled to the ground. His face was slammed into the dirt and the Sig Sauer kicked from his grasp, his arms then pinned behind his back.

Struggling, Tony managed to lift his head a couple of inches off the ground. "What the fuck?" he coughed. "Who are you?"

"Never mind who I am, Fed," his attacker snarled. "Just listen! You and your cop buddies are gonna stay out of our way, we clear? MacDermott is ours and you assholes ain't gonna get near him. You even try, we'll kill the girl, understood?" Tony desperately tried to fight his attacker, who simply snorted and pushed his face back into the dirt. "I said, is that understood?"

"Oh sure," mumbled Tony, his mouth full of grass. "Except you missed one thing – we don't negotiate with terrorists _pal_. We're comin', and you're first on my list." The hand that held his head down suddenly lifted. Tony raised his head cautiously, only to be met with a boot being smashed into his face. Tony only just managed to choke back a howl of pain as he felt his nose explode and his cheekbone shatter.

"We'll see who gets who Agent DiNozzo," the man sneered. "We'll be watchin'. What just happened here, that's just a taste of what's comin' the girls way if you lot don't back the fuck off." With that, he turned quickly on his heel and sprinted back the way he came.

Tony scrambled for his gun and quickly fired off a few shots, but it was no use; his aim was way off as his injured eye forced itself closed. He clumsily sat back down on the ground and tried desperately to think. This whole situation was starting to spiral out of control and for once he hadn't the faintest idea how to deal with it. Tony carefully climbed to his feet and began the long walk back to his apartment. When he'd learned Lulu had been hurt, he'd been pissed. Now, with each step, with each throb of his aching face, the anger built, slowly but surely. "These fuckers haven't seen the last of me," he murmured to himself, feeling the rage roll in waves through his body. "Let 'em come. I'll be ready."

* * *

AN: * _muirnín_, darling, sweetheart – Gaelic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7. Oh man, why'd I have to mess up Tony's pretty face huh? 'Cause that's how I roll. BAHAHAHAHAHA! Onwards! **

It was almost 9am by the time Tony arrived at the Hoover building to join his colleagues – he'd stopped by the NCIS autopsy room so that Ducky could patch him up. Two Tylenol, some butterfly band-aids and a lecture later, and he'd been good to go.

"Nice of you to finally join us, DiNutso," said Fornell mildly. He was surprised at Tony's appearance, but knew from past experience that it was better to ignore it. Tony was a professional; there was no way he'd let a broken nose keep him from his job.

Tony just glared at him. "Good morning to you too _Toby_," he shot back.

Stokes' eyes widened in shock. She couldn't help herself; she had to make sure her new friend was okay. "Tony! Oh my God, what happened?"

He gave her his most disarming smile. "Cut myself shaving, Annie."

Fornell snorted at that. She glared at him, before returning her attention to the battered Agent. "Hun, that looks painful. Are you sure you're alright?"

He dismissed her concerns with an airy wave. "'Tis nothing but a scratch," he cried in an exaggerated English accent. She rolled her eyes at him; he knew he was safe. Tony looked around the room, only just realising that there was someone missing. Just as he opened his mouth to ask the question, the door to the conference room flew open and Gareth Murray walked in. Tony was only a little surprised to see that the detective's face was in similar shape to his own.

Murray saw Tony staring at him, mouth slightly agape, and grinned. "Cut myself shaving," he said, gesturing to his face.

Stokes slapped him in the arm. "You two spend all night working on that joke?"

Tony looked at Murray, who shrugged. "Tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Nodding his agreement, Tony took a deep breath. "I went out for a run early this morning. Had gotten a few miles before I realised someone was following me. Typical car – dark SUV, plates conveniently forgotten. Headed for the park; they came after me. Big dude, wearing black and a ski mask – seriously, who wears a ski mask in October? – chases me and tackles me. Tells me to back off the MacDermott case or they'll kill the girl. I know, original huh? Anyway, he gets off, kicks me in the face for good measure and bolts."

"Were you armed?" asked Fornell.

"Was. Kicked it outta my hand before I had a good hold of it. Grabbed it when he ran off but couldn't get the shot off," Tony shrugged. He was more pissed with himself that he hadn't been quick enough, but there'd be time for self-recriminations later. "What happened to you Murray?"

"Pretty much the same, except happened late last night. Got home from here; couldn't wind down so went for a run. Was nearly home when some fucker grabbed me from behind. Told me pretty much the same thing, DiNozzo." Murray smiled ruefully. "I got a few hits in myself before he clobbered me."

Fornell began pacing around the room, digesting this new information. "So the question is – how do they know we're onto them?"

Stokes was typing furiously at her laptop. "Tony," she said without looking up, "just how big was this guy do you think?"

Tony thought for a minute. "'Bout 6'6", 6'8" maybe? At least 240 pounds, all of it muscle." Murray nodded his agreement.

"Fits the stats of James Williams," she said, blowing his DMV records up onto the plasma.

"Still doesn't answer the question though, Detective," said Fornell absently. He rubbed a hand over his face. "We got the security footage from the hospital yesterday?"

"Your guys are still going through it," offered Tony helpfully.

Fornell just glared at him, before pulling his cell phone out and dialing. "Sacks!" he barked a moment later. "What's the holdup on the security footage?" He paused and listened before continuing. "I don't give a rat's ass what the guys in IT say, I need it yesterday! Get it up here in 30, we clear?" He disconnected without saying anything else.

"Guess you've been taking etiquette lessons from Gibbs huh?" Tony grinned. He loved hearing Sacks get chewed out, it made a nice change.

Fornell ignored him and stalked over to his own laptop. "So, we know that Williams and Collins are good clean citizens. What about Kiely? Any Intel on him?"

"There's a watch on him, but he's careful. Damn careful, and damn good, if you ask me," said Murray. "Never leaves a trace – works in secret. But then again, he learned from the best."

"Well that's just _wonderful_," said Fornell sarcastically. "Do we have anything useful?"

"Yep," piped up Stokes. Three heads turned to look at her. "What? Come on, it's not _that_ shocking. Yeah he's good, but fuck him! We're better." Her fingers flew over her keyboard once more; Tony quietly marvelled at her skills. Not for the first time, he thought that she and McGee would make a good team. Stokes posted a video onto the plasma and smiled happily to herself. "He flew into Dulles only two days ago." She directed the mouse over the screen and enhanced the image. "Fornell, if you ever repeat a word of this, I will kill you, but I freakin' _love_ the FBI. Well, your software anyway."

Tony stepped forward and studied the screen. "He was really stupid enough to fly in with his own passport?"

"Nope," she said, still with that self-satisfied smirk on her face. "Fake passport. Found him with facial recognition." She snorted. "Dumbass."

* * *

Liam checked his watch for what felt like the tenth time in the last minute. He was due in to Quantico in a little over an hour and his gut was doing somersaults. He knew NCIS would be waiting to pick him up; he'd have to give them the slip. Kiely and his team played hardball, and he knew they played to win.

* * *

Damien Kiely walked purposefully towards the room where Lulu lay dozing. Ursula saw him coming and quickly slipped out to meet him, closing the door behind her.

"She needs to wake up," he ordered brusquely.

"She _needs_ to sleep Damien," countered Ursula, her eyes flashing.

"MacDermott will be back in the country within the next couple of hours, she needs to know what is expected of her. Now is not the time to play happy families."

"She's a child! She doesn't know anything!"

"Maybe, maybe not." Kiely was unfazed by the older woman's passion. He knew what he wanted and he was damn well going to get it. "You won't stop me from trying though."

"I will not let you lay your hands on my daughter!" Ursula cried, and before she could stop herself she had slapped him across the face. Kiely rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his cheek where she had struck, and she held her breath.

"You need to hold your fire for when it is needed," he said quietly, his face expressionless. "There is a bigger battle ahead. I think you know this." She nodded dumbly. "So for now, I will forgive your lapse in judgement. But just remember –" he stepped into her personal space, forcing her back into the wall – "I own you. Loyalty is everything Ursula. You need to remember just who you're loyal to." He suddenly reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. "Sean Saol. Mother Ireland. There is no third option."


End file.
